The Trip Diaries: The Time We Did Beirut - In Beirut

This wasn't our first time in Beirut. Well, except for D.

The charm of this city never ceases to seep into my blood the moment I breathe its air each time I'm there; it's always new to me with a strange sense of familiarity, the magnificence of it overwhelms me. And while to many people Beirut may be just another city, to me it simply is not. When you have done a bit of traveling, just a bit, you develop a way to know when a city is "not just another city"; that is, inter alia, Beirut.

The trip revolved around a lot of music. After all, what is culture? According to one source it is the acquaintance with and taste in fine arts, humanities, and broad aspects of science. I really only care about the first part, "acquaintance with and taste in fine arts and humanities". My understanding of culture came to me on its own. Having done my share of "cultural exchanges" less than a decade ago I learned to understand that cultures aren't only about customs, religion, a set of values, conventions, or social practices associated with a particular people. While it may be that, it also has a lot to do with film, music, the fine arts, and things of the like. Unfortunately, we were only taught to talk about the boring aspects of our lives that were eventually going to change as we grew older, and we didn't focus on the more artistic aspect of each others' cultures that possibly would have made a deeper impact on the people we grew up to be. Also remember, respect is key.

You know the famous saying "you are what you eat"? Well, it is about to be permanently replaced in my mind with "you are what you listen to". Having had a talk with R, someone known to roam the streets of Beirut on certain days of the week, depending on the weather this time of the year, we came to the conclusion that we define people according to what they listen to. For example, fans of a certain musician/band , make that your favorite musician/band, are always on top of the rest of your acquaintances and friends. Any how, the more I discover and rediscover music in my life, the fewer people there are on top of my list. But I digress.

One night in Beirut, with really high heels on and having done a good deal of walking around, my feet were crying, they were tired with zero tolerance to any action that may force them to do their miserable job, as does every single pair of feet in this world; having people tread on them as they please.
Later, M asks if some water or tea would be of any assistance to my misery, to which I answered: "yes, darling, just water and we'll drift off", drift off into endless sleep followed by lots and lots of midday sunshine. Of course I needn't tell you about my temporary abode in Lebanon...
Well, perhaps I need to, just to get it out of my system. It is one of the most charming places that I have ever had the pleasure to live in. The perfect-looking garden; green, old, with a hint of nonchalance. The way it looks, smells, and feels in the summer is totally different than the way it does in the winter, although it's the same, the seasons are not. The cozy interior. The cats in the interior and the exterior. The fireplace. The balcony overlooking other mountains and small villages. You get the picture.

Other than that, the trip was really awesome, it's nice to have a place to which you feel you belong. And you do all sorts of normal stuff like meeting people who go by the name Cuckoo Judge and want to shoot people and things out of a canon with the assistance of others who are ridiculously tall and study aerospace engineering, to people who resemble English chefs in Hamra. Which also happens to be the perfect place for late night walks, chats, eating skittles, and bumping into people you know. Not to mention the very charming Gemmayze where you find all kinds of cozy and very Parisian coffee places and nice little bars, crocodiles trapped in inhumanely small containers, Boa Constrictors also, friends, their news, their shopping and umbrellas, flirty waitresses, and charming hostels with charming boys in beanies... Good trip, indeed.

PS. Too much light hurts the eye.

The Trip Diaries: The Time We Did Beirut - On the Way, pt. 2

Still on our way to Beirut.

As we reached the Jordanian - Syrian border, we went to the duty free shop.

We are living a lie in the city, man.

The items we bought at the duty free cost at least double their price in the city. We are ripped off each and every day of our lives. It might actually be better for people to go to the border to shop for gifts, perfumes, cigarettes, and booze and back to the city than buy the same items at a mall, including gas expenses. I assume you'd eventually be paying the same amount of money to do that, and would probably get more stuff out of the duty free shop. Yes, life seemed much brighter on the Syrian side. But then the driver was in the car, and we'd left him for a considerable amount of time, so we decided to get a move on and finish up faster; the faster we finished up, the faster we got rid of the driver and his ridiculous self, and the faster we reached our long-awaited destination.

For some reason, once we crossed the Syrian border it was as though a time machine took us back to the 80's in a communist country. The drab buildings, the badly-dressed border people and everyone around, the miserable old trucks that omit a scary amount of fatal, black smoke, the badly placed barriers with equally bad wiring (in the case it operates electrically), and everything around us had a communist feel through and through.

Driver's machismo carries on with a vengeance; this time he puts both his hands behind his head while doing KM 110/hour and giving D a look from the corner of his eye: ARMS NOT ON STEERING WHEEL, EYES NOT ON ROAD FOR ABOUT 40 SECONDS, I mean this could only happen to us! And D was frightened, the driver goes and says, highly amused: "are you scared? Do you drive? Because you can only be scared if you drive". And that echoed in my head "you can only be scared if you drive" several times... An ignorant of the roads, driving, and all traffic rules that were ever known to man would not only be frightened, they would probably be crying because they have seen their life flash in front of their eyes. "Are you scared?"; not cool, man.

We made it to the land of Lebanon in one piece, stopping at a town very famous for its dairy... Chtoura. And boy do the cows of Chtoura have talent; major talent. Pair that talent with a nice cup of tea and... Well, you'll be having just about the most satisfying breakfast you have ever had. As we carried on what remained of the trip, up on a certain mountain before reaching Beirut, the driver pulled over on his own, suggesting that we all get out of the car while he snaps pictures of us with the stunning view in the background. I was about to criticize the way he forced this upon us, but the view was too nice to be missed. While he took a picture of our group, he also took the liberty to snap a picture of D standing alone, back to camera, in an attempt to compose something; a great photograph, or a beautiful moment caught still in a frame never to be forgotten perhaps, a memento of a trip that lasted a ridiculous few hours, I don't know...

The question remains: why D?

As we approached our destination within Beirut, the driver takes a wrong turn, claiming that he knows where exactly the place is. And wrong he was. So we asked around, got the directions, and we see this homeless guy who goes by the name Zico dance around in torn suit pants made into shorts, an obsolete blazer, a miserable beanie, and a face trodden upon by all-things horrible in life. He dances, drunken, and sings, high on the attention he was receiving. Then from his smile emerges a line of things I'd assumed where teeth at some point, and all I could think of was "what could have messed him up so?" and the driver, as though hearing my thoughts, starts telling us how this came to be... Apparently a woman much prettier than Haifa Wehbeh was behind what became of him.

I'm not sure I believe him.

PS. Hani Shaker must die.

The Trip Diaries: The Time We Did Beirut - On the Way, pt. 1

Dear reader, the trip diaries will come in parts so as you don't get bored reading one huge piece. For now, all you need to do is sit back, chew on something you like, and read.

You know how you always dislike the person who forgets things right before they travel? Passports, tickets, etc.? Yeah, I dislike them too. Dislike I tell you. But this is hilarious because 10 minutes before I was supposed to leave on a trip at 6:30 one morning I discover that "oh, S***, I forgot my passport". I laughed my head off, I couldn't be angry because hey... I wasn't even half awake when I drove back home to get that passport. The only way to deal with this was to laugh more, and laugh more I did.

Start the road trip, road is misty, head is fuzzy. Or head misty and road fuzzy. Actually, that's more like it, and we move ahead not seeing what awaits us within 3 meters at a time. Of course with all the fuzziness ahead you won't expect there would be sun, and there wasn't, hence sunglasses under such circumstances would seem a bit odd, unusual, and improbable, yet, sunglasses with no sun help you sleep better on the road with Fayrouz faintly chirping in the background; the perfect recipe for a trip undertaken, most productively, in the morning.

Fashion note to self: sunglasses in winter work for you.

We covered a decent amount of distance in a rather short period of time that was made excruciating when the driver started telling us tales of escapades that may or may not have taken place in this life. But, who are we to judge? And by we I mean the backseaters. D on the other hand we abandoned and had to sit in the front. After all, I think, it's their thing, among a million other things that are their thing. All this was tailed by awkward silences, regularly broken by non-stop smoking on the driver's part (more on smoking in confined compartments later) and lots of sleeping or pretending to be sleeping on the backseaters' part.

Person suffering most damage: D.

Another thing of D's things is sandwiches. Who knew that even when you're in a car, doing virtually nothing but sitting, sleeping or talking occasionally, you would get hungry? I'll tell you who: D, of course. But that's not the revelation I had, while D is a wonder standing on their own, it is no revelation that they would know such a thing, my revelation is far simpler and endearing. Sharing food on the road helps you experience something new; the taste of solidarity with cucumbers and mint leaves.

The trip goes on, as we witness the rough terrain of the desert, the harsh atmosphere of plains in the winter with a hint of communist feel prevailing at some point, and the way things stand, bleak and tired, like the back of a beached whale. These things we witnessed were made a bit friendlier when a little sunshine oozed from above, reminding us that there's still warmth left in Winterland.

Later, not far along into the trip, the driver takes a funny position in his seat in which he leans against his door as though leaning on a wall, head resting on window, and driving with one hand. Oh the safety we felt. And the road goes on, bleak as ever, unending, very much like Ted Danson's forehead. And the driver's tales continue with showing off an uncalled-for macho attitude while dealing with the soldier on the border, the border soldier then shows off the authority bestowed on him by the king himself, and we have to deal with the unnecessary and unspoken male rivalry. Passing the first soldier, onto the next, the rant is different, it's about an 8-JD tax exemption, with an endless queue on border to get passport stamped after 8-JD tax exemption was found out. As if it makes a difference to travel now with spending JD 8, or the equivalent thereof, less than you'd intended, yes, like that was going to break your budget. Not the gas money, not the food, shelter or shopping you intended to do, no, it's the JD 8 you pay on the border.

The good thing is, or was, that the cold didn't stop many people from traveling. This means that at least they're looking after their welfare; they keep the frowns for their country of origin and go smile in other people's countries. Like a smile would cost them a leg or an arm. But I digress.

And by the way, the European Union knows its stuff: I can now understand how easy it must be for European citizens to move around Europe without the hassle of visas, because the same thing happened to me. Traveling without needing to obtain a visa just makes everything easier, and helps you be a more spontaneous person. It was truly a blessing, the freedom and safety with which we moved.

As We Digress: What Warming, Now?

Yes, we all love the rain. It is wonderful, it means we get greener Springs and wet summers, but not when we aren't used to it.

Winters in Jordan used to be a tad drier and less menacing. This winter, though I am enjoying it too much for my own good, does look unusual and scary, simply because this is not what my city is used to. Rain to the extent of rain-flooded streets, the overflowing sewage systems that weren't built to handle that much water and cars that certainly weren't purchased to handle such climate, is menacing and discouraging. Don't be too happy just yet, because what this country has been complaining about for the past decade now has become painfully true: "we want a greener Jordan in 2010", that's what they said in the year 2000, (and by greener they didn't mean more environment-aware, they just meant they wanted more trees and tried to halt urban-crawling) but there are no more trees than there was a decade ago, and Amman is the whitest city on this globe, thanks to its famous white stones and nauseously uniform white buildings with barely enough space to plant tiny bushes on sidewalks that eventually prevents people from walking on pavements and forces them to walk on the street instead.

I write, more alarmed than ever, listening to two things: Jónsi and Alex's Riceboy Sleeps, and the roaring thunder, and you can count me as one of the happiest people on earth, the mother of us all. But as Jordan becomes greener, possibly with mossy streets in Spring, and dam water for swimming in the summer, you should know that elsewhere, where summers were cool and breezy they're now hot and scorching, where countries that have 50 Celsius in the summer are having winters that are flooding their unready infrastructure to support so much rainfall, glaciers are melting away, summer is spring, spring is winter, winter is fall, nothing's the same as before... There... I said it... The huge imbalance of weather around the world is truly a huge deal, and I am no treehugger, but I know when the world around us cries for help and no one is doing anything to save it from certain doom, there's no way we're going to make it. Many people are saying that there's nothing we can do to halt global warming, but there's a lot we can do to hinder it.

Here are some ideas from Carbon Footprint that we all can use, it might serve us well to see less drastic climate change as long as we live, save come a disaster that would sweep us away in one huge frenzy in the form of a volcano-snowstorm-and-tsunami-altogether:

http://www.carbonfootprint.com/minimisecfp.html

As We Digress: Last-Minute Human Emotion Revelations and Epiphanies

In a sweep of sadness and rage one discovers how they truly feel about a thing or two. And it is not during this storm that one finds out, on the contrary, these emotions surface after all subsides.

How can one live with oneself if they know their excellence in one thing means their demise in it (professional demise)? If one is reminded of how they failed where assholes soared, what's the aftermath of that? I'll tell you, the constant, very public reminder will surely destroy every shred of confidence you ever had in your performance when nothing was wrong with it. And you know what is even worse? The fact that those carrying the reminders, who are probably the assholes who soar in one, rare place, are nothing but worthless entities in this vast, vast universe when your existence probably means a lot more than theirs (professionally). And then one wonders, since when has there been a place where minions belong? This place has only brought ruin among heroes, because minions fight dirty. Your failure where assholes soar means that this place is: A. No big deal, B. A place for assholes, and only assholes, and C. You're going to be reminded of how you failed all the time by the inhabitants of that land just because: A. they can, B. they have no control over the magnificent, excellent person you are and C. they don't know any better. Which invites your sympathy to witness this sad, sad act, for a little while. But through all this, one learns not to dwell too long on the inane land of the assholes, simply because it's not taking you anywhere and you will only feel worse as they will feel superior, when you shouldn't and they certainly are not.

They say it never rains, but it pours, and many a time has this saying proven itself right. So while you're going through some sort of academic shit storm, you also discover that your surroundings are changing, the people flanking you are becoming either more worthy or totally worthless(depending on the way they are proceeding with their either very happy or very sorry lives), some of them you see how they are going to end up soaring where heroes have or dwelling all seven stages of hell, one at a time, but mostly the seventh one. And it's not so much annoying as it is the untimely discomfort this causes. Academic/professional pressure one can handle, but when paired with social life nuisances, you're up for a ride that's bound to make you one emotional retard.

On the other hand, nothing beats the rediscovery of why people of value are people of value in your life. This feeling I'd like to compare to being dead and being resurrected afterward, mind you, I have never had a near-death experience, but I've had an emotional form of that. And just when you discover the amount of sweeping emotion inside of you that needs to be expressed you know that you just cracked open the emotional equivalent of Pandora's box. The tears, the feelings of loss, dismay, melancholy, joy and happiness altogether are capable of putting your mind in a state of utter chaos.

Emotion is not in the heart, emotion is in the whole of a human being, you don't feel with your heart, it just makes a reaction to what message is sent to your brain, when you see the one you love your heart flutters, but so it does when it sees your sworn enemy. It's all in the head, never in the heart. Modern emotion is a more intelligent form of emotion, and we should deal with it as such.

As We Digress: Where Did Humanity, Sanity, and Other Things Go?

And just when we thought Dubai ran out of money we are yet to be proven wrong. Very wrong.

The lavish opening that I am watching as I write is one of the most extravagant yet meaningless shows I have ever witnessed. A one-billion pound skyscraper that stands 828 meters high that is not finished yet, and for some reason has been opened. It's a little over 160 floors, with each floor costing about 5.5 million pounds.

It has the largest dancing fountain, actually the largest dancing fountain with lights sticking every which way out. And the fireworks, oh the fireworks, enough to set all of Dubai on fire if directed strategically. Not to mention the robe-clad governor of Dubai and his entourage looking on. And why not? When you have a whole 800-meter skyscraper with your family name on it, hell I'd dance around Dubai naked. The thing that causes my ultimate, and possibly most serious form of dismay is this: when you run out of money, you don't build skyscrapers that are bound to cause you to go more bankrupt than you already are. And if you do have this kind of money for an 800-meter skyscraper, don't go on splurging ridiculously on its opening, because REMEMBER, you're out of money. And even more importantly, here are only a few suggestions as to how you can spend this kind of money and help millions of people out:

1- Ever hear of this little part of the Middle East called Gaza? Let me refresh your memory; it's this all-demolished part of Palestine that has no water, no food, no electricity, and no medicine to help its people survive the day, not life, just one miserable day.

2- Palestine. How about you flood it with some of your money? Just some, like the amount of money you spent on fireworks, singers, and other sources of entertainment for the opening of your much-admired tall building? After all, they do need medicine, jobs, food, and just little bit of safety.

3- Other Arab countries that are exploding with young energy but have no where to go but OUT of the Middle East and either get lucky or go back home disappointed. Create a fund for those who show excellence, creativity and potential of huge success and support them! All that for the cheap price of not-your-so-tall-building. You know, Dubai having this much money makes it the very rich sibling of cities in the Arab world who are slightly, or dramatically less wealthy. And with Dubai doing what it just did it totally rubbed it in each and every face of its siblings.

There's nothing wrong with having money and not being afraid to show it, but it's something else when the world needs your help and you just stand aside and watch.

4- It's a fact that the governor of Dubai has indeed paid some money for causes such as youth, and Arab entrepreneurship but that, unfortunately, is not enough. Greedy? think again. If there's more you can do, do it. Doing the bare minimum isn't going to cut it.

5- It's a fact that in ancient times Bedouins were known for their extreme kindness and generosity. Some were so generous that they'd feed the camels that they used for transport to passers by in the desert, guests, and family when they had to. Unfortunately, this way of dispensing of your properties does not work with real-money and today's world.

The fact that I so criticized Dubai and its spending schemes doesn't mean I don't respect the way it built itself into something out of nothing. And this doesn't mean that I'm a know-it-all about economy, because I admit: I am not, in fact, I have no idea about what's going on economically in the world, not enough any way. All I know is that there are better ways to get rid of money, and building an 800-meter building is most certainly not one of them. I am also aware that Sheikh Rashed has indeed done things for the youth, as I am a benefactor of one of his initiatives, I just wish he'd do more for everyone else just like he did to me and other young people.
I am of course also aware that my suggestions are far too idealistic, maybe also unrealistic... But one could only hope... Ain't nothin' wrong wit' dat, no?

But for now, Dubai just fed the world one huge-ass camel when it really didn't have to. Some soup would've been perfectly fine.